


White Raven

by Sam_Seven



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: (even the title isn't good ahah), An exercice so I could work my English and know the characters better, F/M, First Kiss, Infidelity, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Post-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Post-Low Chaos Ending, Seriously don't wait too much about it, Writing Exercise, still it was a good base for other fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Seven/pseuds/Sam_Seven
Summary: "She had a strange feeling. The one you get when you are expecting something but could not, would not name it. When you are flirting but are too modest to have hope —or imagining the other one too pretentious to be sensitive— but you get along anyway. An appealing game which could be a pitfall because one day —her heart clenched— the flirt is no longer just banter."





	White Raven

**Author's Note:**

> A biiiiig thank to noun, translating isn't easy (and my English was a bit rusty!) and she had the patience and the kindness to correct this fic for me. I keep all your advices and corrections in mind. A lot of thanks ♥

White is an unusual color for Emily Kaldwin the First. She was the daughter of Corvo, trained by him. She had become the shadow’s bride; as nimble as a cat, as quiet as a sunset. Corvo conceded that white was not her color, but his heart melted when he saw his daughter in an ivory embroidered suit. The suit was a princess seam, with tailored lines that ran from the top of her shoulders to her hims, covered with geometrical motifs, accentuating and embracing her slim waist. Extending from her jacket and trailing behind her was a long train, heavy and creamy. To complete the sweetness of her look, lace ran over her throat, bits of silver yarn making it look as though the lace was sprinkled with sugar.

“I wish your mother could see you.”

“I’m sure she can, father.” answered Emily, thoughtful. Another person was missing: Samuel Beechworth. The sailor would have complained about suddenly feeling old to seeing little Empress as a twenty seven aged woman, ready for her wedding, but he would have been as proud as her father.

Emily clenched her jaws to repress a yawn; it was only eight in the morning and she already had taken a large breakfast, a long bath and her suit was so complex her maids had taken dressed her for forty minutes to dress her.

“Lila.”

“Yes, Lord Protector?”

“Make sure to hide the dark rings under the eyes of your mistress. I believe the Empress didn’t slept enough last night.”

The maid smiled and nodded: she had been serving the Empress since barely three years, but Corvo trusted and liked her. Calm, quick and shy, she reminded him of a young woman he had met nearly twenty years ago: a quiet and modest Loyalist who thought she was invisible when she was in fact brave and gifted. Corvo had never forgotten her.

Luckily, Emily too felt the same about Lila: the young woman had her sympathy. The bride-to-be opened her mouth like a fish, feeling ridiculous, so the servant could paint her lips red. She locked an enormous sigh in her lungs.

Today was going to be a long day.

 

“No walks on the roofs, your Majesty.” Emily quivered but saw Corvo’s smile.

“I could jump even with this train.” she replied, her tone full of pride. “But I guess I wouldn’t be able to save my clothes from the dirt up there.” And Wyman, despite his sense of humor, would not be pleased. Emily and Wyman’s wedding will be the first in Imperial History to appear on silvergraphs: no painter to order to forget unflattering details, the machine will remember Emily’s shadows under her eyes and the dirt on her suit, no matter what.

“Even if I really want to go out for some fresh air, I don’t have time: the last letters declining to attend have arrived.”

“The work never ends for me, either.”

Before leaving, Corvo seized her shoulders and held her close.

“After all we went through, I am very proud of you, Emily.”

She responded his father’s kiss on her forehead with a tiny voice: “All of this, father, is thanks to you. _I_ am proud of you.”

They stayed together a couple of minutes. When her father closed the door, Emily wiped a tear and felt a bright fire inside her.

It was a secret for no one: The Empress missed her mother dearly. Emily’s mourning was a demon sitting on her chest at night, a thorn in her stomach during the day. Still, her grief had a powerful adversary in her father Corvo Attano. He had saved her life and made her an Empress again in 1837, showing love and support. Corvo was her Lord Protector and the father she needed to prove herself to in this life. As a lonely father, Corvo has done a fantastic work as it was proven when in 1852 when her daughter saved his life and her Empire in return.

It was a life made of adventures, betrayals, witchcraft and plague. But they had survived together. She has survived and yet she was answering to all the late letters like any Empress before her. Outsider’s Mark or not.

 

Emily was writing her last answer to an umpteenth missive full of excuses about how the writer was sorry for not being able to attend, how he is regretful because of his health, blah, blah, blah—

The pen finally resting on the desk, she laid back in her chair, breathing deeply. The sudden smell of jasmine and roses chafed her nose. Emily frowned at the bunch in the corner of the counter. Since the events with Delilah Copperspoon —as Emily always refused to say Delilah Kaldwin— the young woman could not stand the sight or perfume of any flower. The bouquet, a roll of softness, was a gift from a Dunwall inhabitant: her husband had been accused of robbery and the Empress had asked for a proper inquiry: the man was clearly innocent and his reputation had been preserved. Unfortunately, an arrangement of flowers was not the best idea to make Emily Kaldwin happy, and she shamelessly wished the bunch would rot quickly so she could throw it away.

The door opened and, bringing with it some laughs and conversations lost in the Tower, entered a soft clicking noise, regular as a heartbeat. Kirin Jindosh’s soldier. Oddly, the song of gears had ceased to be related to bad memories. Emily slowly turned to face the machine. The Tower of Dunwall possessed a few of them, four exactly. They all had kept the sword like arms but they had become gentler. Hostility could be provoked with a singular password chosen by the Empress and the Grand Inventor themselves: “Death to the Empress”. The anarchist who will dare to scream that sentence in front of a soldier would not be slayed: only gripped by the two arms, simple bars ended by pliers, the soldiers’ creator was added at Emily’s request.

Standing still, the machine stretched out its sharp paws, lifting a tray where Emily could put her mail, next to a glass of cider.

“Thank you.”

The clicking amplified shortly.

“ _If this plays, the machine has met the most beautiful bride-to-be. Congratulations, Lady Emily, on your wedding day._ ”

“You haven’t seen me yet, Jindosh.” she said, but the machine did not reply. It was simply a message the Grand Inventor had recorded so he could send his best regards. He had certainly made it around two in the morning, right before a short time reserved for his sleep.

It will take some years before the Empress is named Emily the Fair, still, people already remembered the young woman, chased and accused of usurpation, has not shed blood and has kept her hands clean. But _she_ knew all she has done: she helped with the recovery of Dr Hypatia, she tricked the Duke Abele and banished him somehow, and she spared Kirin Jindosh, with his life and his mind intact.

Well, it was not exact. In fact, Emily was not sure who had spared who.

That day in the Clockwork Mansion, she had been surprised when Jindosh had not alarmed the guards or woken up all his soldiers, leaving the opportunity for Emily’s clumsiness —luckily she learnt quickly and she had drawn attention only the first time. She had wanted to take care of Jindosh first and rescue Sokolov after, so she had located the Inventor and snuck to his office. Dealing with one soldier was hard enough, but two already awake mechanical puppets? It had been a challenge and the fight had been exhausting. Nevertheless she was Corvo’s daughter: not only an Empress but also a tough opponent. Swift and silent, she had approached the Inventor, unable to find her and her arm had coiled around his throat, choking, sending him to unconsciousness.

Emily had carried Jindosh to the electric chair, full of anger. But while she had been trying to solve the matter of the chair’s power supply, Jindosh had begged her to stop.

“I’ll give you anything. _Anything_.”

Before lowering the lever, Emily had stopped and looked at him.

“Anything?” The fugitive had surveyed his hands, his face. Her hand on the lever, she had been ready to destroy his mind if she had glimpsed the first sign of danger. “Your life maybe? I don’t need it. Money? You already noticed I wasn’t a robber. Oh I know. Something you like, Jindosh: an answer to a riddle.”

Jindosh was not smiling at all, more and more afraid. Certainly the riddle would not be about a chemical problem.

“I do believe you have a great mind, _Grand Inventor_ , but maybe I’m mistaken. If your answer is wrong, I’ll sacrifice your so-called ‘brilliant intellect’.”

“Speak.”

She had come closer, looking him over. “Who does the throne of the Isles belong to?”

“To—”

“Take your time, Jindosh,” she had snapped. “I understand the question may seem too simple for a _Grand Inventor_ like you.”, sarcasm cutting every word like teeth. “But take your time. _Think_. Both answers have consequences. Think about them.”

It had not been a riddle, it had been a trial. If Jindosh had answered ‘Delilah Kaldwin’, he would have confirmed his loyalty to the witch. If his answer was ‘Emily Kaldwin”, he could save his mind but would also mean betrayal.

He had taken a few seconds, his heart pounding between his ribs.

“The throne of the Isles belongs to Emily Kaldwin the First.”, he had made a slight movement for reverential bow but she had stopped him.

“Do not bow. I want to see your face.”, she had lifted him with a firm grip. “Say it again.”

“The throne of the Isles belongs to Emily Kaldwin the First.”, and the Empress had smiled. She could have even felt true joy if Delilah had been able to hear Jindosh’s answer.

“You know what I expect from you now, Grand Inventor.”

Emily had spent two more hours in the Clockwork Mansion: Jindosh had been truly obliging, as his mind was more valuable to him than his loyalty to Delilah. He had given names and hints, all to help her in her quest.

“You have betrayed Delilah, Jindosh, I advise you to do not do the same with me.”, she had not needed to warn him, for Jindosh had acquiesced anyway. “I will take Sokolov with me. You can stay in your mansion, but if you have to flee, let me know. Do not try to disappear because I’ll find you again. I swear.”

“I’ll manage to survive to the Duke and Delilah. And—”, Jindosh had stopped. His pride had been crushed and he was fighting against a feeling of being awed by this young woman. He had thought Emily Kaldwin was impulsive, brutal, _spoiled_. But she was also gifted with a spirit as deft as her body.

“And good luck, Lady Emily. Not that I’ll be overly glad if you return to your throne, but if you fail, the Duke and Delilah will certainly know about what I did for you today. Then I won’t be long to join you in the Void after.”, he had said, and she had turned away without a word.

When Emily had left with a tired Sokolov on her shoulders, a mechanical soldier had spotted her in the corridor. Panic had been growing as she had tried to reach her sword but almost left Sokolov fall. But Jindosh’s voice had told his soldier off.

“ _Enter sleep state._ ” Just like a spell, the soldier had frozen.

“Thank you, Jindosh.”, Emily had said, hoping the Grand Inventor could hear her.

 

Corvo had not blamed Emily about Jindosh’s fate for he had dealt the same situation with Anton Sokolov long ago. He had seen the test subject in the cage, far too exhausted to run away when he had freed her. Despite all his talents and his mind, Anton Sokolov was certainly not a man who could attend the Abbey’s services without blushing. Still, Corvo had warned his daughter about Kirin Jindosh: a great mind and great madness are often partners. Geniuses commit either suicide or crimes to crush a world which refuses to understand them. “Keep a close watch on him, Emily, for your safety, and maybe his own.”

That was what she had done since the day she had spared Jindosh.

A few months later, it had appeared the Empress really liked her Grand Inventor —she had offered him a position to keep an eye on him, just like her father advised her. And all the signs have shown reciprocation of her trust, no matter the vehement quarrels they had sometimes. Emily’s strong personality would collide with Jindosh’s stubbornness. She was always the first to raise her voice; he was always the first to complain about his ears.

During these moments, all the court was afraid the union between the Empress and the Inventor could collapse. And then, from Outsider knows where, a witty word, or a smart jape from one to impress the other and they would stop immediately.

Her court. Emily looked forward to appearing to them. Dr. Hypatia would be there, just like the Duke Abele —the fake one in fact— and, of course, Jindosh. The whole meeting would be complimented by her suit, intentionally or not, but what would Wyman think? And Jindosh? Would he appreciate the intricacy of her jacket’s train? He was the observant type, he would surely notice it, but would he _like_ it?

 

Nine in the morning. In two hours, she will marry Wyman.

The anxiety had made her forgot how she sincerely loved Wyman: his open-mind, his humor, his wide smile, his soft blonde hair. But since the events with Delilah, Emily wasn’t the same: she had stopped being so nonchalant. She finally understood what being an Empress meant, she had gained some maturity. She felt older than Wyman when he was born two months before her. Will they get along just like before 1852?

For the first time today, Emily left her apartments. Servants were hurrying in the corridors like notes on a sheet of music, slipping between the guests. Everyone was dressed in blue and gold, the Kaldwin colors —a strange wish from the chamberlain—, laughing and speaking.

“Oh my, your Majesty, you look beautiful.”, Emily recognized Dr. Hypatia’s soft voice. The woman first bowed then took Emily’s hand. The Empress wanted deeply to embrace her, for it had been a long time, but she had to content herself with simply holding Hypatia’s fingers.

“Thank you, Dr. Hypatia. Dark blue really suits your hair.”

“Do you mean the grey ones I’ve found last week?”

“Both!”, chuckled Emily. Over Hypatia’s shoulder, she saw the Duke Abele. He raised his glass to her: the Duke no longer smirked; the new one had a tender smile, delighted face. The Joyful Duke has never worn his nickname so well.

“After the ceremony, in the afternoon, I’ll meet some friends in a private room, so there won’t be any ‘your Majesty’ or what. It’ll be ‘Alexandria’ and ‘Emily’.”, murmured the Empress. Her friend nodded and wished her good luck as she knew Emily did not like crowds.

 

The bride-to-be shook a lot of hands, received some compliments, remembered a few names, and forgot many. But no matter which way she looked at, she was still missing her Inventor. Emily returned to the doctor, her gaze still wandering over the assembled crowd.

“Dr. Hypatia, have you seen Jindosh? I can’t find him.”

“No, your Majesty. I know he has suffered from sleep disorders for many years, maybe he has finally fallen asleep and not woken up?”

Emily groaned a ‘maybe’. She had a lot of time before joining Wyman in the garden right before the ceremony, so she headed in the direction of the third floor. Last year, Jindosh and an architect had rearranged some rooms for a laboratory and private apartments. Every month, Kirin Jindosh returned to Karnaca for a period of time, the size of the Clockwork Mansion allowing him room for his bigger plans, but he was not permitted to go back there without Emily’s consent. Furthermore, Jindosh was not a fool: he knew he was being watched; his projects could not be secrets any more.

But it was their deal. And as long he could work and keep his mind, he accepted to accommodate this situation.

Emily had the respect to knock on laboratory’s door, but she did not wait for any answer before she entered.

Yes, Kirin Jindosh was here, but not asleep as Dr. Hypatia thought. For two weeks, he was working on his silvergraphs: he had always judged the time of exposure too long and tried some solutions to reduce it, gaining a few minutes.

“Jindosh, should I ask you to recall you what day it is?”

He did not look at her but made a movement with his hand, inviting her to come in.

“Shh, Lady Emily, there are quite delicate to handle, so close the door and stay silent or leave.” In the test tube, the limpid liquid turned into shades of purple, swirling like silk in the wind.

“The color is beautiful.”, she noticed.

“But useless. I’ve failed once more.”

“Then try again tomorrow. Do you need to work today? I was waiting to see you in the hall.”

“I’ll be there for the ceremony only. As for the other conventions, my Clockwork soldier wasn’t enough? I thought he’d brought my message.”

Jindosh cut Emily to the quick.

“The prettiest bride-to-be, right. You don’t even know what I look like. I would accept it if you were in Karnaca but, oh, there you are! In Dunwall!” Her breath was deep and quick, announcing a slow anger growing in her stomach. She was not pleased when her spokesperson was not looking at her. It was disrespectful. “Look at me.”

A smell of oil and chemical products tickled her nose.

He faced her at last. His eyes skimmed over the lace, the rich details, the pearls in her hair. When he had recorded his message during the night, he did not know what Emily would be wearing for her wedding, but he had had no doubt on how beautiful she would be.

Jindosh remembered the first day she had come to the Clockwork Mansion. Yes, she was a noble lady, yes, he had judged her as a spoiled girl and had been certain Emily, without her Royal Protector, would not survived more than fifteen minutes on his territory. Yet, there she was, two years after, with a suit underlining her athletic shape. Jindosh always thought Emily was too sharp: her features were angular, bony. She had no breast, no curves. Even her hands were too thin. Once he had ventured an idea: holding Emily would be the same as holding a bunch of wooden sticks. The more he was thinking about it, the more he had been tempted to check it.

“I came here because it was our deal: I keep my mind and all my work must be approved by your Majesty. I’m not a social butterfly and I’m not here to decorate your hall.”

“Our deal was about you as a member of my court. And I want you by my side.”

“What for? So I could offset you future husband’s stupidity?”

Emily sighed, already tired. “ _Everyone_ is stupid in comparison you, Grand Inventor.”

Just like at the beginning: sarcasm to express her boredom and deny her admiration at the same time. When she was a little girl, Emily had already noticed Sokolov’s great mind, Piero’s too. She was young, but she knew. Now an adult, she had measured how Jindosh’s intellect was greater. Bigger and that meant out of control. The Heart —her mother— had told her about it.

“ _Such questions he asked as a child, just free from the crib. Others grew to fear him. Just as he grew to loathe them._ ”

People are not born as monsters: monsters are made by people around them. Emily herself could have become one. Corvo too.

Since then she learnt to know Jindosh and appreciate him. His arrogance was often an ordeal, sure, but everything else was worth the conversation. Marvel and pity were the two conductors of her affection for this man.

“I wouldn’t call you stupid. A bit temperamental, yes, especially when you give me dull orders.”

“Since when is it stupid to ask a friend for some support?”

“I thought our deal is determined by my status at your court, not your friendship.”

The arguing was cooling down: he just trapped her. The tradition of the witty remark. Emily smiled, her hands still on her hips to remind him she was pretty serious. She had a strange feeling. The one you get when you are expecting something but could not, _would_ not name it. When you are flirting but are too modest to have hope —or imagining the other one too pretentious to be sensitive— but you get along anyway. An appealing game which could be a pitfall because one day —her heart clenched— the flirt is no longer just banter.

“Our friendship is obvious to everyone. Even my father calls me ‘your Majesty’ while you persist in saying ‘Lady Emily’ sometimes. And you’re wearing that brown jacket when everyone else is wearing blue. Is ‘quirky’ your middle name?”

Emily stretched out her hand and slightly dusted his shoulder. Unnecessary but she felt the need to touch him. Her fingers slid over his sleeve and finally collided with ceramic prosthesis, just like a soft dream collides with the cold world. She stepped back.

“Lady Emily, you never asked why I stopped my soldier that day in the Clockwork Mansion. If my machine had killed you, my problem would have been solved. I hated you first. If Delilah had beheaded you and had thrown your corpse to the dogs, I would have not blinked.”

She lowered her eyes and remained silent, hands on her hips.

“I’m not a man bound by appearances, I’m not fooled by pretty clothes or make-up, I hope you’ve already noticed that. And even if your face is on every coin and I knew some portraits, I hadn’t truly seen your face as you were wearing your scarf. But I’d noticed how you’d solved all the puzzles, how you’d understood my mansion’s mechanisms, how you’d fooled my soldiers, finding their flaws, and I was truly—"

“Why are you telling me this _now_?” she croaked. “By noon, I’ll be married and you’re telling me this _today_.”

“Don’t tell me, your Majesty, you’ve noticed nothing. We were enemies, you almost electrocuted me and my soldiers nearly cut you in two, maybe three.” In the first weeks, their relation had been diplomatic: the Empress had asked every two weeks for his projects’ progress and he had been leaving reports for her. Meeting after meeting, they had become closer. Jindosh mentioned the afternoons they had spent in the library, smoking and talking about natural philosophy. The nights were she came back from her nocturnal walks, asking “still not sleeping?” and exchanging about Jindosh’s works like two night birds. How she used to joke to relax when he was angry after failing an experiment, how he used to have fun every time she imitated a demanding subject. “Do you think many enemies look like us?”

“We don’t look like lovers, either.”

“Lovers…”

The word was so strong they had to whisper it, like it was a cursed spell. But Jindosh enjoyed it: his lips did not pronounce this word very often. He liked every forbidden thing and turned this term in his head.

“Even if I’ve told you, even if you’ve told me, nothing would have changed, your Majesty. I am but a humble creator.”

“I would not be getting married.”

“And let Wyman know about that strange attraction instead? Don’t worry, your Majesty, you won’t be the first noble woman who will divide her heart for several men.”

“I don’t want to look like them.”

Bow down to the Empress Emily the First, known as Emily the Unfaithful. The woman who had expressed her feelings on her wedding day to the wrong man. The woman who had deluded her Grand Inventor and had left him for another, selling hints and a stab in the back, an inheritance from her rogue father. Please, applaud the royal heartbreaker!

Emily shook her head.

“I love Wyman. I truly love him. It’s just different. I like spending time with him, being with him, while I’m just staring at you, thinking how you’re unapproachable.”

Jindosh took her wrists and attracted her to him.

“No, I’m not.”

His hand pressed against her back. Under the cloth, he guessed the muscles, the arch. He would have dissected her with his fingers, his lips, just to know how this spare body would react. Jindosh may seem dainty, almost a dandy, but to think that was to forget he built machines, playing with screwdrivers and scraps of metal. She felt how his hands were strong and somewhat keen. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Jindosh laid his forehead on her shoulder and smiled. The theory was confirmed: Emily was a bunch of wooden sticks, the most enjoyable one. He felt her hold, tight and warm, so he strengthened his seizing.

“Is it a new experiment, Jindosh?”

“I’m just checking some theories.”

It was funny: a lot of women smelled like roses, lavender or orange blossom, pretending to be mystical creatures born in a garden. Emily’s perfume was something like leather treated with cedar wood oil, rebellious and strong like the smell of cardamom.

“Like what?”

“The Empress of the Isles has ceased to choke her Inventor. It’s a good new for her people.”

Emily laughed and loosened her grip. Now she had enough freedom of movement to turn her face, looking for what she wanted since some weeks.

She kissed him. It was so simple, so easy for her lips to touch the corner of his mouth. It was so natural, so evident for him to follow her gesture.

Emily kissed him like he was the groom. She might have become Emily the Unfaithful, but the history books should add she was Emily the Thrilled. But who would remember this moment except them?

“You might have felt rejected when they had announced my wedding. As a selfish and blind woman, that’s the least I can do. Kirin, you’re the first man I’ve kissed today.”

“And you’re the first Empress I’ve kissed. I’m glad enough for now.”

She frowned, her eyes sought if it was true. Emily knew Jindosh’s personality, that mind freed of moral and ethics, she wanted to be sure he would not harm Wyman.

“I guess our deal had changed a bit, with new conditions—”

“I know what you’re thinking, Lady Emily, some things never changed.” He suddenly stepped back. There had been enough of revving one another up for this day. “Wyman will be safe. I’m too far busy to be a jealous man, so as long he’s conciliatory and allows us to meet, I’ll be well-behaved.”

It was partly true as Jindosh had never harbored illusions about Emily: she was an Empress and his folders had no room for the blueprint of life as a couple. Living an interrupted romance was perfectly fine for his work, even if Emily was too wild to be over-possessive. As for her, she tried to clear her conscience: her feelings for Wyman were still here and she wished him to be safe. Continuing with Jindosh could help with it.

She took his wrist.

“Come on, wash your hands and join us. I can’t stay in your laboratory all day.”

Jindosh nodded.

“By the way, I hope you haven’t blackened my dress. They’ll all notice.”

“No, I haven’t. But about things that must be kept shut, even if I’m looking for the next time you’ll call me by my name, try to do not in public.”

“Oh of course, just like when you keep calling me ‘Lady Emily’, right?”

 

Two hours after, Emily was Wyman’s wife.

When she had kissed him, she had hated herself: it had been wrong to love two men at the same time. One was noble and could offer a tender love, sweet moments, the other could fascinate her with a few words and inspired her burning desire built upon the ashes of an old rivalry.

She and Wyman were young, married at 27. She was not sure how their affection would evolve. Did feelings last forever? When Emily looked at Corvo, she wondered if her father, after twenty years, would have still loved her mother if she was alive? She hoped so.

As for her, Jindosh was right: Emily would be like any noble woman, Wyman would be like any noble man. Maybe one morning they would wake up, smile at each other like two friends and go to see their paramours. Maybe it would not be Jindosh anymore.

The Inventor did not stay after the ceremony: his work was more valuable. As for Wyman, his family was circling him with some friends.

Doctor Hypatia was pouring tea in pretty cups and offered one to Emily. Both approached a window to draw away the group of friends.

“You seem so grave, Emily. Is something wrong?”

“I was asking myself if— Well. All the brides want to know if they’ve made the good choice I guess.”

The good doctor showed herself to be flexible.

“Do you trust the novels, Alexandria? About eternal love and those sorts of things?”

“I—” Hypatia looked solemn, watching the swirl of steam. “As a scientist, I think nothing last forever as nothing is eternal. But I do think love can last for a long, very long time. It only changes. Passion, in otherwise, do not last very long.”

“Do you think I’m cruel to ask this on my wedding day?”

“Not at all. You’re a smart woman, Emily, you’re not naive or idealist. But do not overthink: let it to Jindosh—” Why was she talking about Jindosh? “—You love Wyman, I can tell. It looks like a healthy relation and I’m sure you’ll love each other for many years, like two lovers or two friends in the end. There are so many ways to love someone.”

“Thank you, Alexandria.”

 

The hall was so gloomy now. It was strange to think two days ago, a crowd had hammered the parquet. Sometimes, the servants found a handkerchief with initials or a precious earring under a carpet. A guest had amused herself kissing a painting and a maid did not to dare clean it, worrying for the paint under.

“Do you think there’s still a bottle of whiskey in the cellar?”, joked Emily.

“At least two bottles. I think.”, responded her father. “But I’m not sure about the food. Maybe we’ll be starving for the very first time in Dunwall Tower.”

“You could eat _anything_ , father.”

Corvo laughed, adding maybe he would find some rats to roast.

“Ugh, that’s so gross!”

They reached Emily’s desk, one of the few rooms spared by the celebration. When she was younger, the Empress had no care for paperwork and her father had to reprimand her insouciance. Now, she knew it to be the place of a serious sovereign.

“Father, I’ve to ask you: as a spy, I guess you know many ciphers. Would you find it acceptable to teach me one?”

Corvo looked at his daughter with surprise. He had some messages even the Empress could not read and he would have not allowed her to penetrate the veil of some secrets. Still, he taught her the pigpen, an old cipher with fragments of a grid for each letter. Of course, the Royal Protector deliberately forgot to mention that code was so simple and popular that spies did not use it anymore.

When her father left, Emily sent her work packing and took the paper with the signs for the pigpen. She carefully wrote the disguised letters on a blank paper and rolled it up. Tonight, after her nocturnal ramble —she and Wyman have still their own room so Emily would keep her freedom—, she would leave it on Jindosh’s bed.

 

Jindosh was exaulted: his goal was almost reached. Soon, the silvergraph would only take thirty minutes to capture a picture instead of one hour. He could grant himself a few hours of sleeping as he had started to feel dizzy. He started to unbutton his shirt’s sleeves when he noticed the roll of paper. Curious, he unfolded the message rather his own clothes.

He could read easily, a smile upon his lips. Jindosh came back at his office and wrote in his turn.

 

Jindosh’s answer was not long to land on her desk. Emily eagerly opened it in the morning.

“ _Of course you do._

_I have to admit this is the first time I’m experimenting with it. Shared feelings. It is quite new and the enigma you are, Lady Emily, keeps me mesmerized._

_Your Grand Inventor, KJ_

_PS: Just in case, the pigpen cipher is not used anymore because it is so simple and explained in every book. But I appreciate the kind thought for the work of the mind._ ”

Emily grew pale when she read the post-script: hopefully her father had not intercepted her message. Maybe it was time to invent a code Jindosh had to decipher.

Yes, she liked this idea a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to understand Emily's message? Try to read it with it: https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qp69QpRv1Sw/VvVta32XYmI/AAAAAAAAAR4/BC7pLo-tbIYqS1rQab6lCraDwpDNQWFvw/s1600/pigpencipher.png


End file.
